


here for you

by chaoticautumn



Category: South Park
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Panic Attacks, honestly? i dunno what i'm doing i just like writing hurt/comfort, i can't really express those well, stan was mentioned like twice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticautumn/pseuds/chaoticautumn
Summary: Was this what death felt like? That had to be the answer, Kyle was fucking dying. A breathless laugh escaped Kyle’s lips. He felt like he was choking on his own voice. Of course he was dying.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 137





	here for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VanillaSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaSnow/gifts).



> i don't have a reason for this i just like writing kyle with anxiety man  
> gabi told me i should post this so here's to you gabi

The first time Kyle had a panic attack, he was 13 years old. 

Kyle didn’t know what specifically triggered it. He just felt anxiety building up in his chest then erupting like a volcano out of nowhere. Maybe it was Cartman’s constant teasing and bickering that got to him. Maybe it was realizing he hadn’t finished that history essay due in two days, hadn’t even started it. Maybe it was Stan’s dismissive replies towards him while he talked to Wendy that had Kyle thinking Stan hated him now. Maybe it was all of it, mixed into one terrifying mass of panic and nausea that finally broke down the walls Kyle kept up that kept him from breaking.

Kyle didn’t know what was happening to him either, which made the panic worsen and swell up. He was scared as fuck, and in the worst place for a panic attack to catch on.

Panic attacks at school weren’t the best.

When Kyle felt nausea swirling in his stomach, he assumed he was sick and paid no attention to it, focusing on the lesson instead. The teacher was talking about presentation and how it should be done, going on about posture and eye contact and speaking voice. Proper etiquette, clothes, all that. Because apparently what happened in seventh grade mattered in college.

Cartman jabbed at Kyle's arm with his pencil, grinning to himself, clearly not paying any attention at all to the lesson at hand. Because of course, Cartman sat next to Kyle in history, obviously with no intent on actually learning anything and really just there to annoy the absolute fuck out of Kyle.

Kyle glared at the boy over his shoulder, signaling for him to stop, not having any of his shit today. Not when he felt like this. Cartman rolled his eyes and poked Kyle again. Kyle twisted in his seat to face Cartman, his eyes narrowed and his teeth grit. “Fucking quit it,” he hissed, ready to make a grab for the pencil and snap it-

“Kyle Broflovski!”

Kyle jumped, the strange feeling in his chest swelling as he turned to face the front of his class again in a heartbeat. “Uh- Yes?”

“Do you have something you would rather talk about than the lesson?” the teacher asked, suddenly looming over the boy. Kyle felt small for once.

The redhead swallowed nervously, gazing flicking around the class before coming up to rest on his teacher again. “No…”

“Then what were you talking to Mr. Cartman about, hm?”

“He- He was bothering me! I-”

“I did no such thing, miss,” Cartman said sweetly, kicking up the ‘perfect A+ student’ act he always put on whenever there was the risk of getting in trouble. “Kyle was just distracting me from the lesson as always, you know how he is.”

You see, this teacher was new to South Park. She didn’t know the things Cartman had done, she didn’t even believe the tales the other teachers and parents had told her, because how could such a sweet little boy do all of that? He was just an angel!

Kyle swallowed again, his throat feeling dry. Hate for Cartman boiled and bubbled in his chest, spreading through his body. He really had no one, didn’t he? Everyone was looking at him silently, judging, picking him apart with their eyes and seeing what Kyle didn’t want anyone to see. They knew Kyle’s temper, they knew Kyle could defend himself, so why wasn’t he, what was wrong with him?

Cartman furrowed his eyebrows as he watched Kyle struggle for an answer. Usually, Kyle would come up with something to say by now. Was something really wrong with hi- Cartman accidentally squeaked as Kyle abruptly stood up, shouldering his backpack and almost hitting Cartman in the face with it. “Bathroom,” Kyle mumbled, scrambling to get away from the eyes piercing through his skin.

The teacher sighed as Kyle bolted from the room, waving her hand dismissively. “Go make sure he doesn’t get into any more trouble,” she told Cartman, who was already halfway out of his seat. Cartman nodded obediently, following Kyle’s footsteps out of the class and clicking the door shut behind him.

Kyle scared himself as he slammed the bathroom stall door shut, gasping for air and feeling unimaginably dizzy. His bag sagged to the probably disgusting floor, but Kyle couldn’t bring himself to care. Kyle clutched at his chest as he dropped to his knees on the floor, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get his lungs to function properly, feeling like something was coiled around his chest and constricting him. Tears burned his eyes and throat as they dripped down his cheeks to the bathroom floor. Something was really fucking wrong with him, this wasn’t normal!

Kyle hunched over like he was going to throw up, but he didn’t. Instead, he let a scream rip itself out of his throat, hoping it would release some of the built-up pressure in his body, the pained noise resounding throughout the bathroom a few seconds after Kyle had stopped. It gave him relief for only a few seconds before the coils snaked around him even tighter. Was this what death felt like? That had to be the answer, Kyle was fucking dying. A breathless laugh escaped Kyle’s lips. He felt like he was choking on his own voice. Of course he was dying.

Footsteps in the bathroom sounded behind Kyle, and Kyle whipped around, pushing himself back to the corner of the stall. He couldn’t be seen like this, he’d be ridiculed for the rest of middle school, maybe even into high school! Kyle Broflovski wasn’t like this!! Kyle Broflovski was strong, ready to speak up, ready to knock down even the toughest bullies. And this small ginger Jewish boy cowering in the corner of one of South Park Middle’s bathroom stalls? This wasn’t what Kyle Broflovski was supposed to be.

Cartman gently pushed the door to the stall open, gazing quietly down at Kyle on the floor. Kyle pushed himself even more into the corner, if that was possible. Hate and fear and anger and everything Kyle had ever felt for Eric Cartman swirled in those wide forest green eyes of his. This was it. This would be the end of Kyle Broflovski. Cartman would hold this over him for fucking ever and Kyle couldn’t do anything about it because Kyle frankly still felt like he was having twelve heart attacks at once and-

Cartman crouched down to his level and Kyle furrowed his eyebrows, his gaze following Cartman’s glinting golden eyes. What was he doing? Kyle at least expected Cartman to kick him while he was down, to laugh at him, to make him feel worse than he already did.

“Hey,” Cartman simply said.

Kyle blinked.

“Mrs. whatever wanted me to keep an eye on you,” Cartman explained awkwardly, thumbing back in the direction of the classroom, as if that actually explained why the fuck he was here. Why hadn’t he taken the opportunity to just leave the school campus? Cartman himself didn’t seem to know.

And for some godforsaken reason, Kyle actually felt better as soon as Cartman showed up. His chest wasn’t swirling with dark anxiety, the black pit that had dropped into his stomach was slowly disappearing. It could just be the familiarity of the brunette that helped, or it could be the realization that he hadn’t fucking died yet because Cartman was still here in this reality with him. Kyle didn’t know that either.

Kyle watched as Cartman kicked his bag to the side and sat down next to him, sighing heavily, then looked away, not really wanting Cartman to see him at such a low point. He could feel Cartman’s sharp gaze on him, inspecting him, digging much deeper than his classmate's eyes could ever reach into Kyle. Kyle hated it, hated how much Cartman knew about him, hated how much Cartman knew that Kyle didn’t. Kyle wanted to shrink into himself and disappear. He wiped his face dry with a sleeve instead.

Then, Cartman shifted over just barely to press their shoulders together. Kyle startled, not expecting Cartman to do anything like that, ever, especially not for Kyle of all people. It felt kind of… reassuring, in a way, and Kyle didn’t want to look much deeper into it.

There were a solid two minutes of silence, the only sound being Cartman’s breathing and Kyle’s less even breaths. No one tried to enter the bathroom, but Cartman might’ve locked the door. Kyle was thankful for that.

“How’s Ike?” Cartman asked suddenly. Kyle blinked as he twisted to glance up at Cartman, confused on where the fuck that question had come from.

“Uh… he’s fine,” Kyle said, his voice hoarse and not sounding like his own. “Why?”

Cartman shrugged, his eyes wandering across the bathroom tiles instead of looking at Kyle. “Talking you through this,” he said, as if he knew what ‘this’ was. “How’s, uh, how’s Stan?”

Kyle shrugged quietly, the snake of anxiety threatening to constrict him again. Stan hadn’t talked to him in… four days now. Technically it’d been six, but Kyle was busy on the weekend so he didn’t count it.

Cartman blinked and Kyle could feel him look at Kyle in surprise. “You don’t know how Stan is? That’s a first.”

“He’s ignoring me,” Kyle muttered miserably, closing his eyes. Cartman made a soft understanding noise in the back of his throat and fell silent again, not pushing the topic. Kyle tried to not think about how he shifted just that much closer to Cartman.

It was a couple more minutes before Cartman spoke up again. “Want me to keep talking?” he offered. “To, uh, you know.” Kyle didn’t know, but nodded quietly anyway. He didn’t know why he nodded either, usually Cartman’s voice was increasingly irritating to Kyle and only served to annoy him. Kyle didn’t seem to know anything anymore. He was too drained to care.

Cartman started talking about whatever he could think about, games he’d played recently and gossip he’d overheard the girls talking about and conversations he’d had with people Kyle had never heard of before. His hands sometimes moved to express emotions he couldn’t perfectly get across with words alone, Kyle noticed. Every once in a while, Kyle could feel Cartman glance down at Kyle, and every once in a while, Kyle could feel Cartman shift a little bit so Kyle could be a little bit more comfortable.

Listening to Cartman talk was… surprisingly kind of nice. With Kyle as pressed as close as he was to Cartman’s chest, his voice was rumbly and strangely deep. And Cartman somehow didn’t sound like himself. His voice wasn’t as obnoxiously loud as it usually was, it wasn’t as whiny and high pitched as it usually was when talking to Kyle. Cartman sounded like he was being gentle for once. Kyle wasn’t sure if he should hate it or love it, but it definitely felt weird seeing this side of Cartman. This was only a side reserved for cats and scared animals, and maybe even Kenny sometimes. Kyle didn’t get to hear this voice, he’d only heard this voice when they were in third grade and he and Cartman were the only people outside Kenny’s hospital room, and when they were in fourth grade and Cartman had snapped and killed all of his toys to force himself to ‘grow up'.

The realization Kyle had only heard this voice when Cartman was broken in some way made him tense up a little bit. But Cartman noticed, of course, probably because Kyle was basically pressed into his side, and started tracing circles into Kyle’s shoulder with his thumb, most likely presuming Kyle was growing anxious again. Kyle sighed and closed his eyes again, just resting his chin on Cartman’s shoulder. He pretended to not notice how Cartman froze up momentarily.

After a long minute, Kyle finally spoke again. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, interrupting Cartman’s tangent about almost getting caught shoplifting by a mall cop. Not accusatory or angry or any of it. Just confused.

Cartman stiffened as soon as the question left Kyle’s lips and he scoffed, not looking at Kyle at all. “Well, sorry for being here,” he spat, standing up, his arm slipping from around Kyle’s shoulders. Kyle felt colder as soon as Cartman left his side. “I won’t try to fucking help you again if you’re gonna be like that, Jesus Christ-” Cartman continued as he stalked towards the stall door, obviously avoiding the question.

Kyle smiled secretly to himself. Even Cartman’s fucking diversion tactics made him feel a little better. God.

Kyle shifted as Cartman reached to unlatch the door and laced his fingers with Cartman’s other hand. Cartman immediately stopped, even though Kyle hadn’t used any force at all to keep him from moving, and his gaze dropped to their hands.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Kyle said, standing up and stepping closer to Cartman. Cartman glanced over his shoulder to watch Kyle warily. “Why are you doing this?” Kyle repeated, locking eyes with Cartman.

Cartman seemed frozen in place by Kyle’s gaze. It took Cartman a few minutes to reply, but eventually, he sighed and managed to rip his gaze away from Kyle. “I… I’m doing this,” he started slowly. “Because, I care. About you.” Kyle could see Cartman’s eyes shift to look at their hands, still intertwined with each other. “Even if we aren’t friends and even if we hate each other, you still mean something to me. And, that’s why. I know what anxiety does. I don’t want you to have to do that alone.”

Kyle squeezed Cartman’s hand. “Thank you,” he said softly. “How did you know?”

“You were practically hyperventilating in the classroom before you left, I just, assumed,” Cartman shrugged, looking away again. Kyle recognized the evasion but didn’t push for the truth.

Both Kyle and Cartman jumped when the bell rang, echoing against the small bathroom walls. They looked at each other for a moment, and both looked away, their hands unlinking. Kyle grabbed his backpack from the bathroom tile, wrinkling his nose a little bit in disgust as he slung it over his shoulder.

Cartman watched him quietly, looking like he wanted to say something but not knowing how. Kyle glanced up at him and gave him a small prompting smile. Cartman just silently shifted out of Kyle’s way though, dropping his eyes from Kyle. Kyle gazed at him quietly for a moment, then reached past him and unlatched the stall door. The sound seemed like it marked the end of something, and Kyle didn’t know how to feel.

The redhead walked to the bathroom door, running his hand through his hair as he tried to make himself seem at least a little more presentable. The tear streaks felt gross on his face and he felt heavy and tired and wanted to go to sleep. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot he could do about that at school.

Kyle was stopped before he reached the door by Cartman’s hand in his again. “Uh, if you ever feel like, that, again,” Cartman said awkwardly. “You can let me know. There’s no reason to hide it from me, I already know about it. You’re not alone when this happens. There’s always someone who’ll help you.”

There were times when Kyle thought Cartman was just going through the motions of bullshit to eventually rip on him for something. It’d happened multiple times before, Cartman making up some elaborate plan to trap Kyle and harp on him for some shit. But, this wasn’t one of those times. Cartman was being genuine. And although Kyle wasn’t used to it, he really and truly appreciated it.

Kyle squeezed Cartman’s hand gently to show his gratitude. “Thank you, Eric.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote the beginning of this like,,, earlier this year then fuckin powered through it today so sorry if it was a little wack


End file.
